


Dirt

by Gumnut



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Mostly Gen, Whump, a little pen and ink towards the end, enclosed spaces, mostly whump, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: Virgil and Alan are buried under a building and it is up to their brothers to dig them up, but someone intervenes. Warnings for tight enclosed spaces and some violence. Mostly gen (a little pen and ink towards the end) and lots of whump.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ak47stylegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ak47stylegirl/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A clear case of me needing to writing at least something today as it is going to be a very long work day today. Sorry it isn’t more. ::hugs you all:: Ten minutes is all I got.

“Virgil, I’m scared.”

Virgil grabbed his brother’s hand and held on tight. “It’s okay, Allie, we’ll get out of this.”

As if to deny the older brother’s words, the ground shook again, raining more and more soil down on them. They had the green of Virgil’ light sticks, but little else.

And the soil just kept pouring in.

They had their helmets, that was one thing, but communication had been killed off by interference and the tiny hole they were stuck in was slowly filling up with dirt.

“You should get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Alan, forget it.” There was a chance he could get himself out, but not without the risk of collapsing this bolthole. Alan was pinned and ever so slowly bleeding out.

He couldn’t...

“Virgil, I’m not stupid. I know what is happening.”

“Don’t care. Not going.”

The ground shook again, the damn aftershocks of the earthquake that taken down the building they were in, determined to finish off the job. A chunk of concrete groaned and slipped into the tiny hole above them. Alan yelled as Virgil dove over the top of him to protect him.

The bruise it left behind caused a grunt and an abrupt exhale.

“Virgil!”

“Not leaving.” It was rough and mostly breath. He needed a minute.

“Please, Virgil!”

“No, can’t.”

More soil poured through the hole. It rained to the point of drowning the both of them. Alan had little more than his helmet and one hand above the surface. Virgil struggled to dig himself out.

Scott, god, please, where are you?

-o-o-o-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bit took a little longer, but that is because it is midnight here at the moment and I’ve had a very long day. Enjoy! Also, incidentally, this is for @ak47stylegirl because I felt guilty about how I’ve been treating poor Alan lately….though admittedly, this probably isn’t much better from Alan’s point of view :D

“Let me through.”

The man preventing him from accessing the building site was built like Virgil. He even looked a little like Virgil which made the whole situation just that touch worse.

“My brothers are in there. I need to get them out.”

“No one is going anywhere near that pile of rubble, sir.” The man pointed upwards at the building that had once been the collapsed building’s neighbour. It was now leaning at a gravity defying angle directly over the remains of the building Alan and Virgil had been evacuating. “That is going to fall at any moment.”

“That is exactly why I need to get in there. My brothers are in that pile of rubble and I need to get them out!”

“Sir, I know you are International Rescue and I respect that, but you are not going in there.” He waved several other men over.

“I-“ But he was interrupted by Gordon tearing past.

The official spun on the spot and gave chase. “Hey, you! It’s not safe! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“John give me a location.”

“I’m trying, but there is interference.”

“We don’t have time, John.”

“I know! I can read the stressors on that building from here. I’m doing my best. Last location was on the north west corner. Start there.”

The building was a massive lab complex. The earthquake had destabilised its foundations. Both Brains and Moffie had been on site and Alan and Virgil had run in the get both them and the last handful of scientists out.

They hadn’t expected the second quake. There had been no warning.

Watching that building come down with his brothers inside it was in the top five of Scott’s most horrific experiences.

Not being able to contact them or locate them was in the top three.

His heart was still in his throat.

John must have relayed the last known location to Gordon as well, as the aquanaut was outpacing the army officer like Jack-be-nimble jumping over demolished concrete.

Scott didn’t waste any time with the man’s distraction. TB1 sat in the middle of the street, her sister, Two, hunkering beside her awaiting her master’s return. A flick of his wrist controls and he deployed six remote drones. Perhaps proximity would help. They darted out over the rubble.

“Brains, any ideas?”

The engineer had retreated into TB2. Both he and Moffie were understandably quite shook up. The fact the brothers who had saved them hadn’t managed to make it out after them only made it worse.

“I’m w-working on it. Recalibrating sensors in an at-tempt to ward out the in-nterference.”

“No! I will not leave! These are my brothers!” Gordon’s voice was desperate.

“If you do not leave, I will be forced to make you leave.”

Shit.

“John, get me this guy’s commanding officer.”

“FAB.”

Scott strode over and around the rubble, doing his best not to disturb anything.

Gordon looked fit to explode, both fists balled up, his stance almost on his toes. “Gordon!”

“What?!”

“Loop yourself into the drones’ feed and assist with the search.”

“You cannot stay here. You are endangering yourselves.”

Scott turned on the man. “With all due respect, sir. What I do with my life is my responsibility. You are hampering rescue efforts. Leave or I will remove you myself.”

“You have no jurisdiction here. You have no say in the laws of this country.”

For the love of- “But I do have a say in the lives of my brothers and if you do not stop interfering, I will call the goddamned world council itself and have you removed. Do you understand?!”

The man had a ridiculous moustache and it wriggled as he pursed his lips in outrage.

“Allie? Allie, talk to me!” Scott startled at the sound of Virgil’s voice.

“Interference negated.” John’s voice was parched.

“Allie!”

“Virgil?! John do you have a location?” God, please tell me you have a location.

There was a heart-wrenching pause. “North-west corner, approximately five metres down.”

Five metres down. Hell. He was running.

“Virgil? Virgil, can you hear me?”

His brother was still calling to Alan. “Allie, please, I know you can’t see anything, I know it’s dark, but I’m here, I promise, I promise, please, answer me.” It was wretched and it tore him up inside. “Please, Allie!” The name was a wail.

Gordon reached the pile of broken concrete before Scott, his footsteps coming to an abrupt halt as he consulted with John. All six drones narrowed in and Scott was able to pull up a fuzzy structural scan of the area.

Two dots blinked ominously at the very edge of the hologram. “Virgil, can you hear me?!”

“Scott, we’ve managed to negate the interference at our end, but Virgil does not have the equipment at his end. He can’t hear us.”

“Allie, god, Allie, please!”

The sun peeked out from behind a cloud and sharpened the landscape as Scott ran with Gordon for Thunderbird Two and the equipment to dig out their brothers. He blinked as he emerged out of the shadow of the broken building hovering above them.

“Allie!” It was little more than a broken sob over the comline, but it was enough to break his heart.

“Please, Allie.”

-o-o-o-


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If you have a problem with enclosed spaces, this might not be the fic for you.  
I’m sorry, Alan, please forgive me.

Alan Tracy had never considered himself a hero.

Sure, he saved people, but that was just what you did. There was no other option, you just did it. He did it, his brothers and sister did it. He had grown up surrounded by everyday heroes and to him, it was an everyday thing.

So, no, Alan didn’t consider himself a hero.

But if today was it, if today was his last call, his screaming exit, his final opus, he knew he was dying in a good place having done good things.

It was he who had grabbed his brother and shoved him out from under the falling concrete beam, even as the floor was collapsing from under them. It was he who had held them together, despite the embarrassingly high-pitched scream that echoed within his helmet.

Hopefully Johnny would edit that out of his epilogue.

It was Alan who had kept himself and his brother together as they fell.

The fact that it was Alan keeping his brother here to die with him…

That was not so good.

“Goddamnit, Virgil. Go!”

“No!” His brother held his hand in a vice like grip that almost competed with the stabbing pain in his pinned leg.

“Virgil, we don’t both have to die. Please! Think of Scott and Gordy and John. Grandma, think of Grandma.”

Dirt interrupted him again, this time pouring over most of his helmet. Virgil swore beside him, the man struggling in the dark to keep himself from drowning in the downpour.

He refused to let go.

The light was buried a moment, but Virgil dug the stick out and once again everything was outlined in creepy. A large hand gently brushed the soil off his visor and the green rushed in, no doubt making him as zombified in appearance as his brother.

“Virgil, please go.”

“Allie, there is no way in hell I’m leaving you here.”

“So you’d die just to keep my corpse company?”

The words that blistered the dusty air following that would have had Grandma bleaching white.

“Why, Virg, I didn’t know you knew that one.”

The attempted joviality didn’t work. If anything, the hand holding his just gripped tighter. “I’m not leaving without you, Alan, so forget it.”

Something shifted in the pile above them and the sudden rain of dirt and rock cut off all conversation. Within moments Alan found himself in total darkness, his head buried under the avalanche of earth. Something hard hit his helmet and his comline screamed in his ear.

“Virgil?!” His gut twisted and all the bravery he had mustered earlier began to fall away and terror began to creep in. “Virgil? You there?” His hand was still gripped in a claw of steel and he was ever so grateful for the almost pain his brother was causing him. “Virgil?” He quickly found he couldn’t move any more than he could see. He could barely move the hand his brother held to signal he was okay, the soil was solidifying around him.

Well, perhaps he wasn’t as okay as he would like to be.

Left to focus on little more than one hand and the throbbing in his leg, his mental state wasn’t as up there as he would prefer. But hey, he was a spaceman. He could do isolation, couldn’t he?

The soil was heavy around his chest and getting heavier.

It was still pouring in, apparently, somewhere above him. Thank god for the reinforced chest plate on his uniform. There, that was a positive thought.

In the dark.

He tried again to twitch his fingers and thought that, yes, he had moved within his brother’s massive hand. God, Virgil, please be okay.

That thought prompted the idea that Virgil may not be okay. That his brother may have been injured. That the hand holding his held no more life than the dirt encapsulating it.

His heart didn’t like being bruised against the inside of his ribcage.

Calm down.

He ran himself through survival exercises. Standard training for emergencies and low oxygen. All their uniforms held oxygen supplies, sealing them off from damaging environments. Theoretically he should be able to survive in this situation for some time, bar whatever was leaking out of his leg…which aside from blood, also meant air leakage…perhaps not as long as he could have anticipated.

“Virgil?”

He had never wanted to hear a brother’s voice so much in his life.

The pain in his fingers flared momentarily and his heart missed a beat. “Virgil?!” He tried his best to respond, but could barely twitch a fingernail.

All thought came to an abrupt halt as his whole world trembled about him, the dirt vibrating. For a moment, his hopes soared. His brothers were coming. They were going to be saved! But a sudden increase in the weight on his body, pushed some of the air out of his lungs and to his horror, it was far more difficult to breath more back in. “Virg-“

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was his last call, how he was leaving this world.

Part of him accepted it. There wasn’t much he could do about it, after all. But the rest of him swelled up in anger. This isn’t fair. He had saved so many people and fate wouldn’t save him? He hadn’t had a decent time on the planet yet. He had plans, for crying out loud. He wanted to get into racing. Take a car out onto the track. Living on an island just didn’t give him the opportunity to drive a car anywhere and now he had his license after all those lessons with Parker, he had found he enjoyed the road and like any Tracy, he had a fantastic relationship with speed.

He wanted a red racing car and he wanted to drive fast.

And Virgil, his big brother, the grumpy bear who couldn’t survive without coffee, the gentle force of nature who painted and played music, the one to go to for advice and the occasional reassurance. He was down here because he wouldn’t leave Alan.

That fact just clogged his throat. The sense of the hand wrapped around his communicated so much love it broke his heart.

He didn’t want Virgil to die.

He didn’t want to die himself.

But as the dirt packed tighter and tighter around him, he knew he had no choice here.

His breathing became shallow and his body hurt.

There were tears in his eyes as he thought of each of his brothers, his sister, his father, his grandmother and the mother he hardly new.

He hoped he’d done them proud.

More weight vibrated through the darkness suffocating him further.

Silent tears escaped and tracked across his cheeks.

-o-o-o-


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, warning for those who are not comfortable with tight spaces…this may not be the fic for you.  
Many thanks to @scribbles97 for the read through ::hugs:: And for all the encouragement from all of you. This one has been an amazing experience ::hugs you all:: @ak47stylegirl are you going to forgive me? ::extra hugs::

When Virgil started singing, Gordon started crying.

Okay, it was manly tears. No sobbing, just a tear or two tracking down his cheek as he flung concrete out of the way with the pod.

His brother’s voice was little more than a whisper under strain and he could tell things were not well with Virgil. His brother rarely sang, but he was damn good at it. The song was one Gordon hadn’t heard for many years. In fact, he was pretty sure the last time was Virgil singing to an upset Alan the night after Dad disappeared.

Really, Alan had been too old at eleven for such a gesture, but there had been no objection, and Gordon at sixteen had sat down outside his brother’s door and listened incognito.

One of his few memories of his mother was her singing and Virgil…

He shook himself and forced his mind back to the job at hand - saving those brothers. Concrete flew through the air.

Virgil sang on.

“Slow it down, Gordon, you are getting close and the pile is fragile.” John’s voice was calm but tense, a sign that his middle brother was only just holding it together. “Scott, move in where Gordon was….keep going…yes, there. Straight down.”

“FAB.”

Gordon dragged several more of the larger pieces of rubble off the pile before John called a halt to heavy lifting. Ironically, this was where they needed Virgil. His exo-suit would have been perfect to haul out the smaller large pieces, but instead he had to nit pick with the pod. Virgil had the specific logistical skill to assess this job and execute it in the most efficient manner.

He wasn’t supposed to be under the rubble.

Gordon blinked rapidly.

And his littlest brother…

He stopped thinking, climbed out of the pod and joined Scott in his focussed tunnelling. The retaining walls holding back the natural slope of earth beyond the building had collapsed and there was dirt everywhere, filling up everything.

Virgil started another verse, his voice barely more than breath.

Scott wielded the Vac, a long tube hooked into the the module’s massive pumping system. It shifted loose particulates, in this case soil and dirt and piled it elsewhere.

Two metres in they found a hand.

It didn’t belong to a brother but it stopped Gordon’s heart for just those couple of moments. The scientist was likely one of the unlucky few with his brothers as they completed evacuation. He was most certainly dead.

Gordon noted that Scott reported the body to John, but not to Brains.

As a pair they unburied the man and respectfully moved his remains to one side.

Virgil’s song stuttered suddenly and the comline fell quiet.

“John?!”

“Hurry, Scott!”

The Vac rumbled, choking and spitting larger rocks as its strong suction drew up debris. A flash of green and Scott shut off the machine, reaching down and grabbing the smashed remains of Virgil’s shoulder lamp. A blink and it was placed aside by a shaking hand.

The Vac resumed its task.

Three metres and Gordon returned to the pod, yanking up yet more large chunks of concrete, John directing what could be moved and what couldn’t.

He missed Virgil and his calm direction.

He missed Alan beside him following those directions.

“Scott, between those two large beams. They are within the space beyond.”

What space? Gordon, once again beside his brother moving rocks by hand, stared for a split second at the circular gap no bigger than his waistline. “Can we move the beams?”

“No. They are supporting most of the structure and are the reason why we have a reason to dig.” John’s voice was parched and Gordon’s heart froze.

The Vac sucked away, Scott grim within its harness saying nothing. The gap in the debris slowly became an opening. Gordon shifted the portable lamps, targeting the shadows slowly being created.

“Scott, you’ve got company. Local troops moving into the area” John’s voice was frustrated. “I’m contacting Colonel Casey.”

Shit. “What the hell is it with the army? This is a goddamned rescue site.”

John answered before Scott could open his mouth. “Apparently, part of this building was devoted to military research.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“But Brains and Moffie weren’t involved-“

Scott’s voice was a grumble over the line as he shifted his weight manipulating the Vac as he moved. “Doesn’t matter. Never matters. And let me guess, the interference, John?”

“Intentional. Eos is actively tracking it and adjusting our frequencies to compensate.”

The words Scott uttered belonged in an airforce dorm room and nowhere else.

Except perhaps a WASP bunker.

Gordon grit his teeth.

And the Vac uncovered a green rimmed boot.

-o-o-o-

Virgil’s world narrowed to three things.

His brother’s hand in his.

The pain in his body.

And dirt.

So much dirt.

It pressed in on him. Tightening like a vice. The something broken in his back was one ongoing scream. The chunk of something that had fallen on his helmet in the last rush of soil and movement creaked ominously as if threatening to crush him further.

Death’s final embrace.

No, no, no….no. Scott was coming. His big brother would get him out. He would get Alan out. They would be safe.

“Alan?” His voice had faded, his throat raw and full of dust. He could barely hear himself. But still, he tried. “Alan?” His green glow stick was shoved up against his broken helmet, lighting the soil seeping through the plexiglass as if to torment him. Any movement invited more in.

The song had been for himself as much as Alan.

Alan.

Alan.

Please, Alan.

He clung to his brother’s hand.

Something nudged his left foot.

It startled him, but then a regular tap on his sole. Oh god.

Thank you, thank you, thank god. The relief as Scott tapped out morse code on the sole of his boot reached up and overwhelmed him. _Communication one way, we can hear you. Speak. Talk to me, Virgil._

“Scott?” He forced the rasp. Soil trickled in and brushed his cheek, but he didn’t care.

_Digging you out. Hang tight._

“A-Alan!”

_We know._

Oh, god please.

_Status._

“Alan pinned. Right leg. Bleeding. Can’t contact him. Can you?” His helmet creaked again, the something solid above it shifting slightly. He spat dirt.

A vibration became apparent around his left leg. The Vac, they would be using the Vac. His brain supplied what he knew about where he and Alan were entombed, the logistics a welcome distraction.

_Your status._

A gentle tug on his leg and his back screamed. He gasped, the weight on his helmet creaked in warning. “Don’t!”

_Status!_

His big brother definitely knew how to punctuate in Morse.

“M-Mostly upside down, face down. Back injured. Helmet p-pinned by weight. Cracked.” He swallowed dirt and spat again. “A-Alan below.”

They found his other foot and the weight on his body slowly began to lessen. He was able to draw a larger breath.

His whimper only prompted more tapping on his boot, but he missed the words.

He missed a moment as well and suddenly there were hands on his waist. His body felt like it was floating with the lack of weight.

Light.

There was light as the pressing mass was lifted off his shoulder and helmet. He cried out.

“Virgil!” A blue hand brushed away the dirt from his visor.

Yellow and blue.

Gordon.

His little brother Gordon. “Gord’n.”

The aquanaut had a scanner in his hand, waving it over him. He watched as his brother’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Thank goodness. Virg you’ve broken a couple of ribs near your spine. Stay still.”

He reached down and gently removed Virgil’s helmet. Dirt poured from it. Virgil gasped as he was freed.

“Scott, we need a spare helmet for Virgil. Get Moffie to raid one of TB2’s lockers.”

Virgil looked around blearily. He lay limp on the pile of dirt. One arm was free, the other still buried, reaching down to his connection with Alan. “A-Alan.”

“We’re on it, bro. Promise.” Gordon blinked something out of his eyes and turned back to the Vac behind him.

The Vac worked at removing the soil entombing his little brother.

A helmet appeared and Gordon slipped it over Virgil’s foggy head.

His hand wrapped in Alan’s was uncovered. Alan’s helmet was uncovered.

Virgil shifted where he lay, desperate to see his little brother and his back screamed at him.

“He’s alive, Virgil. Stay still.” Gordon’s admonishment was echoed by a sharp command from Scott above. There wasn’t enough room in their bolthole for the commander, Gordon’s lithe form designating him their saviour.

“John, give me his vitals.” Gordon’s voice was calm, but bleak.

The numbers that fell from the sky had Virgil attempting to sit up and help dig out his brother.

“For god’s sake, Virgil, stay still!” It was sharp and the expression on Gordon’s face cut through the fog in Virgil’s brain and cut his heart in half.

Okay.

He lay back down on the soil.

He was still holding Alan’s hand. He squeezed it gently.

It squeezed back.

An indrawn breath. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thank you.

-o-o-o-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two parts in one day. You’ve got me all enthusiastic :D
> 
> Warnings on this for some violence.
> 
> Also, please don’t hate me ::hugs you all for all your wonderful support with this::
> 
> For @ak47stylegirl Thank you to @scribbles97 for the inspirational support :D

Alan thought he had lost it. That his mind was breaking under the strain.

So much weight, so suddenly removed that perhaps he had finally stepped over the last line.

But there was still pain.

And fingers were scratching dirt from his visor. A blur of blue and yellow.

Gordon?

His hand was squeezed.

Oh god.

Virgil?

Virgil was alive?

He squeezed back.

Muffled words. His name.

Over and over.

“Gordon?”

“Oh, god, thank god, Allie.”

A long black tube snaked into their tiny space and as Alan watched, the dirt disappeared into it. The Vac. Gordon was using the Vac. Tension fell from his shoulders and spots appeared in his vision. His brothers were saving him.

He could let go.

“Alan!”

The voice was sharp, but hoarse.

Virgil.

Alan startled. Virgil was right. He had to stay awake.

Stay awake.

And he realised he was cold, light-headed and his heart was beating faster than it should.

Blood loss.

Hell.

His leg.

Gordon was yelling something up through that tiny opening where all the soil had come from. A cable appeared and disappeared down below his eyeline.

Virgil squeezed his hand.

The mass pinning his leg moved.

His gasp was more of a scream and the spots danced in front of his eyes. Someone grabbed his leg in a vicelike grip and Alan saw white.

His world spiralled to the tune of Virgil’s voice. Reassurance. Everything is going to be okay. We’re with you. Stay with us. Alan. Alan.

Allie, please.

His heart started beating again, his lungs breathing, and the white washed away, leaving the stark of the hole they were in and the worried expression on Gordon’s face.

“Hey, bro. We gotta get you out of here now.” Gordon had a scanner and he was waving it over Alan. Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and...

“Alan!”

Virgil.

Leave me alone.

And the thought struck him like a slap to the face. No. No. No, please don’t leave me alone.

No.

Please no.

His grip on Virgil’s hand tightened to what had to be white knuckled.

“It’s okay, bro. We’re getting you out of here.” Gordon smiled at him and reached over to squeeze his shoulder...

A sharp crack and Gordon flinched, surprise on his face.

A fleck of red shone in the light and landed on Alan’s visor.

“Gordon!!” Virgil’s voice was a scream.

What?

What?!

Gordon fell face down in the dirt and rolled onto his side.

“Nobody move.”

What the hell?! A man in uniform holding a gun slid through the hole above them.

“You are all under arrest for trespassing on military property.”

To his left, Virgil was edging towards Gordon, agony on his face.

The gun came up again and targeted him. “I said, don’t move.” The hammer cocked.

Virgil froze.

Another head peered through the hole. “How many?”

“Three. Hauling them out now.”

Alan’s heart kicked up a notch as his body put in a last-ditch effort and dumped the remainder of his adrenalin into his system. What the hell was going on? Where was Scott?

A rope was dropped through the hole.

“Get up.” The gun was addressing Virgil. His brother struggled to obey, but the pain was blatant on his face. Apparently, he didn’t move fast enough and the gunman grabbed his arm and yanked.

Virgil’s scream tore Alan in two.

“Leave him alone!”

The gun was suddenly in his face, filling his visor, filling his world...

And then it wasn’t.

A blur of blue and yellow. The thud of fist on flesh and the gunman went down fast.

Gordon was crouching down beside Virgil, his hand on his shoulder, soft words on his lips.

Gun in his hand.

Blood on his fingers.

Virgil was trembling.

“What’s the hold up?” A head appeared in the hole. Eyes landed on the unconscious man shoved in the corner. “What the hell?”

Another gun appeared. It pointed straight at Gordon.

No, no.

Please, no.

“We’re coming out. Please don’t shoot. We’re coming!” Alan rolled himself onto his hands and did his best to ignore the spots dancing in his vision. Lightheaded and dragging his leg behind him, he crawled towards the hole, purposefully placing himself between the gun and Gordon.

Perhaps today would be his last after all.

But the gun didn’t fire. The head looked at the first gunman and back at Alan, and then past him, to Gordon. “Put the gun down.”

The gun hit the dirt.

“I want all three of you out of this hole now.”

“They are injured.” Gordon’s voice was full of anger and defiance.

“Then help them.”

Alan continued to drag himself until he was under the hole and could reach the rope. He glanced at the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his shin and calf just below his knee. Standing up would likely see him falling down.

But then Gordon was with him, and the rope became a makeshift harness and he was being pulled up.

Up.

His head spun.

A blur of military uniforms. Rough hands. A familiar voice yelling his name. Scott. Big brother Scott. The sound of safety.

But it was all spinning.

And eventually it all spun away.

-o-o-o-

It had all happened so fast, Scott was shell shocked.

When John said the army had arrived, he had not expected this. International Rescue had agreements, special protocols and rights all over the world, all of them hard won and in place for a reason. The world had agreed that IR was to be allowed to rescue all and everywhere. Including this country.

But there were guns and accusations, threats. Scott declared their benign intentions, identified them as International Rescue, but it made no difference. He was grabbed, restrained and held at gunpoint.

And then they went after his brothers.

When the gun fired, his heart missed a beat. When the leader of the unit smiled when it was reported that one of three men in the hole had been shot, Scott’s blood ran cold.

When a scream of agony so blatantly Virgil erupted from the hole, Scott saw red.

“Why are you doing this?!”

The leader was a hard-bitten man with little care in his eyes. “Because you trespassed here, taking advantage of this disaster to steal military technology.”

“What military technology? The building is a ruin.”

“Convenient.”

“What?!”

“It wasn’t a ruin when you first arrived.”

Scott stared at the man in horrified confusion. “The building was destabilised. It was coming down. We had to get everybody out.”

“While you stole technology. The building collapse is little more than convenient.”

“What?! We had two men trapped under that collapse. They could have died.”

“Again, convenient they did not.”

What the-?! “We are International Rescue-“

The man turned on him, his face taking up almost all his vision. “Prove it.”

Scott stared at him. As if the uniform wasn’t enough, there were two great hulking Thunderbirds sitting just behind them. “How?”

“Surrender your vessels.”

Scott blinked.

Really? Did it always come back to that?

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” It was snarled.

“The ships go into lockdown the moment our security is compromised.” John and Eos, Brains and Moffie, god, he hoped they had stuck to protocol. “Not even I can get aboard.”

The man eyed him, obviously assessing him, summing him up as an opponent. “Interesting. I guess we will see how effective that ‘lockdown’ is.” He turned away, his gaze latching onto the entrance to his brothers’ prison.

Three men were hauling someone up.

Alan.

A sharp in-drawn breath. Alan was as white as a sheet. One leg sported a red, blood-soaked bandage just below the knee. His eyes were unfocussed.

He was dragged out of the hole and forced to his feet. The moment his injured leg touched the ground, he crumpled.

“Alan!!”

A rough hand shoved Scott backwards as two of the three men picked up his little brother and discarded him to one side like a sack of potatoes.

The rope was lowered once again into the hole.

“Rumour has it that International Rescue is run by five brothers. Is this true?” The leader eyed him for a reaction. Scott swallowed it and showed only cold defiance. The man tilted his head to one side. “There were only three men in that hole. Where is the fourth?”

Scott said nothing.

“Oh well, three should be enough.”

John, whatever you are doing, make it happen fast.

Fortunately, or not, the conversation was distracted by a sharp cry as Virgil appeared in the gap between the two beams. His heavily built brother didn’t quite fit, his broad shoulders snagging on the concrete of both sides.

So, the three men yanked harder.

Scott struggled against the bastard holding him back as Virgil’s pain echoed off the concrete rubble. It caught in his chest and hurt so much, a tear squeezed out one eye.

It felt like forever, but eventually his brother slipped through, ending up face down in the dirt, limp and barely responsive.

The man next to him beckoned a hand to the three men who had hauled Virgil up. Two of them lifted his brother up under his arms. The simple movement forced out another hoarse cry from Virgil, but they ignored it, dragging him carelessly.

His brother was limp and barely conscious when he was presented to the bastard next to Scott. “This one is colour-coded with that green ship over there, isn’t he?” It was a question, but it wasn’t.

In any case, Scott’s stomach dropped into his shoes.

“I wonder if he can get us past the lockdown.”

It was mockery and a genuine threat.

Scott ached to reach for his brother. Virgil was almost translucent. Pain-filled brown eyes flickered up to his. Apology? Forgiveness?

Hope?

No.

Faith.

Scott’s heart broke.

-o-o-o-

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of happening in this, bear with me for the necessary plot solutions (sooo hard to write, my goodness, hurts the brain). More emotive stuff in Part Seven to come ::hugs you all:: Many thanks to @vegetacide for reading and fielding my wibblies :D

John Tracy knew how to swear extensively in thirty-two different languages.

None of them were vile enough.

Who were these people? His fingers danced across searches, bringing up political situations, cross-referencing intel. The uniforms were legitimate, but the actions were not.

His brothers’ vital signs danced holographically in the corner of his eye. Alan was unconscious and well into hypovolemia, Virgil was showing signs of internal bleeding and Gordon had a hole in his shoulder.

Scott’s pulse rate was going for the record.

Colonel Casey was inbound, but John was not inclined to put all his trust in the GDF, godmother or not.

“John, I need detail.”

John shunted everything he had to Thunderbird Shadow. Their security officer was livid...of the calm and killing kind.

Lady Penelope was not far behind in mood or ETA. Several sharp and nasty communiques had flown back and forth between the American Embassy and FAB1, Penelope’s lilting tones cutting like knives.

Pink flashed and he automatically linked Penny in. “John, I have an identity. These are not genuine military, but a faction taking advantage of the disaster situation. I have spoken to their president and he claims the man at the centre of this is one Joshua Kasdan, a thug disguised as an extremist. I’ve found no connections to the Hood, but I suspect a copycat in any case. What is good for the goose, is good for the gander, if you get my meaning. He seeks power and influence and will do anything to get it. The Thunderbirds and your brothers stand for both.” She paused, composing herself just a little. “He has a bloodthirsty record, John. I feel negotiation will not give us the result we need.”

He silently agreed as that record scrolled past his eyes.

His eyes tracked back to the holographic tableau, head tilting in thought. It was like a game, pieces laid out on a board.

John’s shoulders shifted and his eyes narrowed.

Okay, you bastard.

Let’s play.

-o-o-o-

Gordon shoved away the hands that yanked him from the hole, his eyes grabbing for information on his brothers. Scott was pale, eyes staring at a limp Virgil strung between two of the assholes. His brother’s pain as they had forced him through the opening...

His eyes landed on Alan, crumpled in the dust.

His feet skidded in the dirt as he landed beside his little brother. One of the men grabbed at him, but Gordon shoved him off.

Whispered. “Allie?”

“Gords?” It was a rasp. So much meaning in one word.

“Hey there.” Gordon ran a vitals check and found exactly what he expected. Alan needed a hospital asap. “You hang in there, okay, bro?”

“Hang-ing.” Blue eyes blinked up at him. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” It was a lie. He had a hole in his shoulder that hurt like hell and he was in need of a hospital almost as much as Alan.

Virgil cried out and Gordon’s head shot up to find the asshole next to Scott prodding Virgil’s ribcage. A blur of motion as Scott rounded on the guy and sunk his fist into his face.

Gordon shot to his feet, ready to move, but it was over before it had begun. The two men holding Virgil dropped him, the engineer falling with a whimper and a groan, and grabbed Scott.

A gun nudged Gordon under his chin. A hand wrapped around his bicep and the intent was clear.

Alan was trying to sit up.

“Stay down, Alan.”

“But, Virgil-“

“Down!”

-o-o-o-

It was only stubbornness keeping Virgil conscious. Breathing hurt. God, it hurt. Something had shifted in his chest and was screaming at him. Another something was broken in his left shoulder. His medical training listed possibilities, but his comprehension was poor.

And they kept hurting him.

Why?

God, why?

When Scott rounded on the source of Virgil’s misery, his only thought was blessed relief as he fell. Contradictory thoughts soon followed involving worry for Scott, but it was all blanked out as his body whited out when hit the dirt.

He lost everything for a moment, there was only pain, but comprehension returned to find his big brother being hit repeatedly, “Sc-t!”

A foot was spared for him and he screamed.

So much screaming.

He curled up, desperate to protect himself.

Scott gasped as each punch hit home.

And the world began to roar.

A familiar roar.

His girl. His girl.

He opened his eyes to find his ‘bird airborne and moving in their direction.

She was beautiful.

So beautiful.

-o-o-o-

It was worth it.

The bastard spat out a tooth and no small amount of blood and Scott felt the tiniest of triumphs. His attention had moved from Virgil to Scott.

Objective achieved.

“You’ll regret that.”

Probably, but it was worth it. The two assholes who had held his brother wrenched Scott’s arms behind his back, exposing his belly for what he knew was coming.

He tensed his abdomen.

The fist hurt just as much as he expected.

And again.

Again.

The kick in his shin was a little unexpected and he stumbled.

But at least the bastard wasn’t hurting Virgil anymore.

Thunderbird Two fired up.

The man’s attention was drawn to the massive cargo ship and Scott took a moment to gather his strength.

John. Brains? Probably John. This was it.

TB2 roared, her VTOL launching her into a low hover.

“What are you doing?!”

Scott pinned him with his eyes. “Not a thing.”

“Hold him.” But there was only so much the man could do as Thunderbird Two turned towards them and accelerated. Four hundred and six tons of green and angry machine barrelled onto the site with the intent to mow down everything in her way.

“Hold him!”

The asshole pulled a gun, but there was only so much steel in his henchmen.

Cahelium is stronger than steel.

Thunderbird Two swooped low towards the soldiers and the two men holding him cut their losses and ran. Scott took a step towards their tormentor, but the gun was still sure in his hand. “Stay where you are.”

To Scott’s right, the Pod suddenly came to life, its dirt-covered claws charging in their direction.

Men scattered.

The air began to vibrate, Two’s VTOL heating the atmosphere as she loomed.

But the bastard held his ground, the gun still aimed at Scott.

Several of the men shot at Two, but her hull deflected the attack. One man went down, victim of a ricochet.

Two grew as massive as she was and those still standing ran.

“STOP!” The gun barrel was rammed into Scott’s left nostril as the man grabbed him. “Stop, or he dies!”

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s priority was Alan.

He threw himself backwards, causing the man behind him to lose his balance. A sharp turn and Gordon dug his foot in the man’s face.

Three others dove for him and Gordon was hard put to keep them at bay. One pulled a gun and the aquanaut sent it flying, but the other two pulled theirs and he knew he had lost. “Okay, guys, let’s keep this calm-“

A sudden blast of hot air, a hiss of familiar engines and his sister leapt out of hazy air, fury in her expression. The two men didn’t stand a chance as she whipped around and almost decapitated them with her feet on the way down.

Gordon’s fist was then free to remove the remaining problem from the equation.

“Tin.” His voice was hoarse. “Glad you could join us.”

Her green eyes fixed on him, only spinning to punch another soldier on approach.

“STOP!” The man’s commanding voice was heard even above the roar of Thunderbird Two as he grabbed Scott and shoved his gun in their brother’s face. “Stop, or he dies!”

Two stopped where she was, but didn’t land.

Tin took a step towards her eldest brother.

The gun cocked.

-o-o-o-

It was as if a scene on the holovid was playing for him. People running, The approach of his beloved green ‘bird, her roar in his bones.

Scott held at gunpoint.

Scott.

His big brother.

A gun in his face.

Virgil stared at him, the man’s fury so evident, Virgil was surprised the gun barrel hadn’t melted.

“And if this one’s death isn’t enough to convince you, I can easily fill his brother full of holes for extra entertainment.” He gestured at Virgil.

Scott held at gunpoint.

“What do you want?”

Virgil blinked. That was Kayo’s voice. When did she arrive? His thoughts were sluggish and he was finding it hard to connect things together.

The gunman was gesturing again, yelling something about Virgil’s ‘bird. He was staring somewhere off to the right.

Scott’s eyes flickered worriedly in Virgil’s direction for just a split second before once again narrowing in on his assailant.

Thunderbird Two was hovering behind them.

His beautiful ‘bird.

Virgil blinked again.

He was slumped on his left side, moving hurt like hell and it was slow.

Another blink and he reached for his remote. Breath hissed out between his teeth.

A flick of his fingers...they were shaking, god, they were shaking. Concentrate. Scott, the controls and his ‘bird all blurred a moment.

He clenched his jaw.

Focus.

A flick of his fingers and he deployed Two’s forward grapple cannon. Targeting.

Green.

Slow blink.

Green.

Fire.

-o-o-o-

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay on this. I haven’t been well and work has been evil. But now I’m on leave, here be the next bit. A touch of action, a touch of Pen & Ink and a whole pile of angst.
> 
> For @ak47stylegirl Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for putting up with my whining while I’ve been sick. Nutty is a pain in the ass when denied her creative outlets.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this appropriately whumpy fic considering the month :D I can cover possibly ‘delirium’, ‘gunpoint’ and ‘dragged’. There aren’t any ‘explosion’s, but lots of similar stuff, but eh, this fic grew from September, so it is what it is :D

The result was immediate. The man holding the gun to his brother’s face was thrown forward with a godawful snap of bone, disappearing out of Virgil’s sight, the cable trailing behind.

Scott staggered backwards in shock and time stopped.

Another blink.

“Virgil?!” Scott was kneeling beside him. “Virgil!”

“This is the Global Defence Force. Remain where you are or be fired upon.” A pause. Scott touched his faceplate and Virgil closed his eyes. “I repeat, remain where you are or be fired upon.”

Gunfire and Virgil jumped. His body responded by screaming at him.

“Hey, hey, keep still.” Scott wrapped a hand around his shoulder.

Virgil realised he was trembling and he couldn’t stop it. “Scott...” The trembling became shaking and it shook his injuries. Oh, god...

“Virgil!”

Make it stop. “Can’t...” Spots, teasers of blessed unconsciousness, danced in front of his eyes.

Something shifted in his left shoulder, finally collapsing under his weight and everything whited out.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was beginning to feel the effects of his injury when Thunderbird Two shot the bastard with her grapple gun.

The man flew past Gordon at high speed only to collide with a crumpled wall.

He did not get up.

Everything happened at speed after that. Scott ran to Virgil. Tin spun around and targeted him and Alan, her eyes assessing. “Sit down, Gordon.”

“Not yet.” There were still quite a few of the soldiers in the area, though most looked more terrified than threatening.

But the GDF rocked up, Aunt Val’s firm voice as reassuring to him as it was threatening to the assholes on the ground.

A familiar pink vehicle swooped in to land not far away, a glaring and defensive Parker stalking out from the driver’s seat and hovering around...

Pen.

Gordon suddenly found himself on his butt in the dirt. He was vaguely aware of Tin attending to Alan, but he only had eyes for his blonde hallucination approaching at a run.

“Gordon.”

“Hey, Pen.”

Then her hands were on him assessing his injury. “You got yourself shot. How unfortunate.” The words were composed, but her eyes said so much more.

“Sorry.” He reached for her, but realised his glove was scuffed and bloody and curled it back towards his body.

The dirt under his butt rumbled. For a moment, he thought it was Two on the move again, but it didn’t take long for the rumble to overtake even the Thunderbird’s roar.

“All of you, get out of there!” John’s voice was unusually panicked.

Penelope grabbed him by his uninjured arm and he remembered why they weren’t supposed to be on this site.

The rumble of tremor was suddenly overlaid by cracked and crumbling concrete falling from height.

The building next door.

“Alan!” But Tin was already moving, her hands under his arms dragging him towards...

Two was moving again, her hatch lowered and Scott dragged an unconscious Virgil onto her deck plates. Kayo was dragging his little brother...

“Gordon!” Penelope hauled him to FAB1, throwing him into the car as Parker fired the jets.

Two roared past, gaining both speed and height as the building above toppled.

“Hold on, M’Lady!” And FAB1 shot into the sky, swooping abruptly left, then right. The GDF flyer contingent lost formation as the International Rescue vehicles punched through it. A glance behind and Gordon saw TB1 fire up and take to the sky, no doubt under John’s control. To their right Shadow suddenly rippled into existence.

Behind them, the lone remaining pod and the discarded Vac were buried under an avalanche of concrete, steel and office furniture.

Gordon found himself dizzy.

“Breathe, Gordon.”

His eyes flickered to Pen and her worried frown snapped him out of shock.

Expensive leather, the quiet hum of efficient machinery, blue eyes only for him...a long drawn out exhale.

Her hand reached for his.

-o-o-o-

It all happened so fast, Scott’s head was spinning.

One moment he was being held at gunpoint, the next the gunman was gone, Virgil unconscious and the world was shaking.

How had they forgotten they were in an earthquake danger zone?

How had they forgotten about the building just waiting to topple on them?

He had been distracted.

“All of you, get out of there!” The panic in John’s voice was so uncharacteristic that it snapped him out of shock. Two crept closer and lowered her hatch.

Virgil was in pieces, but he had to be moved. Begging forgiveness under his breath, Scott dragged his heavy brother by his baldric and harness as gently and as fast as he possibly could onto her hatch plate. A moment later, as Two crept forward, Kayo joined him, her arms dragging an unconscious Alan.

Penelope had Gordon and Two’s hatch drew them up into her body, her thrusters firing, pushing her into higher speed and horizontal flight.

The normalcy of his brother’s cockpit enveloped them.

“Alan!” Kayo’s voice was sharp held no shortage of worry. “Alan!”

“Scott, Alan needs fluids now! His blood pressure is almost non-existent.” John’s voice was sharp in his ears.

Yes. Yes.

Virgil was limp in his arms. “Virgil?”

“Alan is the priority.”

Move.

It was a blur. Lifting his little brother onto one of the pull-down gurneys in the cabin. Assessing his condition. Kayo grabbing a saline drip and forcing fluid into his blood stream. Brains was suddenly there, Moffie at his heels. A frantic attempt at halting the blood loss from Alan’s lower right leg. Clamps. Blood on his fingers, his hands, sterile gloves.

Thunderbird Two rumbling through the soles of his feet.

Alan’s pulse fading as alarms screamed throughout the cabin. Kayo’s desperate voice begging his brother not to give up.

Dirt everywhere.

The spark as the defibrillator charged. The laser cutter tearing Alan’s uniform from his chest.

Virgil crying from the floor for his little brother. Moffie’s voice attempting to reassure him.

A young man’s body shuddering as it took the charge designed to kick it back into life.

Prayer.

Wishes.

Begging.

The thrum through his soles.

A single beep.

Another.

A chance.

Alan, please god.

Oxygen.

Oxygen.

The sound Virgil crying into the decking, unable to get to his feet.

A breath.

Another.

Another.

Life.

That chance.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke surrounded by his ‘bird.

Her thrum was in his bones and she brought comfort and refuge from the pain that accompanied consciousness.

It took him a moment to realise he was on her deck plates and the feet blurring in and out of his vision were those of his eldest brother and his sister. Brains? For a moment, he just stared at the blurry shapes as they danced back and forth across his vision.

Why?

An alarm cut through the air.

A familiar alarm.

Cardiac arrest.

Alan? Where was Alan? “Alan!” His voice just didn’t have its usual power. It came out scratched and faint. “ALAN!”

A woman’s voice. A hand on his arm.

Arm.

“Alan?!”

Kayo echoed him, calling his little brother’s name and for a moment, he was surrounded by dirt, his brother’s dying hand in his. “Alan? Alan, please answer me. Please.”

There was a woman’s voice again, but his little brother didn’t answer.

The distant sound of the defibrillator charging. His breath caught in his throat. “ALAN?!” Answer me, please, answer me.

The next few moments were lost to him in a wave of despair, fear and pain. Somewhere his littlest brother was dying.

He had promised to stay with him.

Virgil attempted to roll over and push himself up.

Pain whited out everything.

It left him whimpering into the deck plates.

Alan.

Alan.

I tried.

Please.

“Virgil? Lay still.” Scott’s soft voice broke through the fog and the tears.

“Alan?” Please.

“It was close, but we have him stabilised.”

The relief that hit Virgil nearly took him down. His groan became a sob that shook him and sprouted new pain. His voice trickled off into whimpers and everything faded.

“Virgil!” Scott’s voice yanked him from the fog and for a moment he could see his brother’s weary eyes ever so clearly. “We need to get you on a backboard and cervical collar. Stay with me, bro.”

He blinked and the blur returned. He didn’t answer.

Time slipped again until his whole body screamed at him. He was being moved, but he couldn’t. His helmet came off and all the familiar smells of his cockpit washed over him. A breath. A hand was holding his head.

Scott’s voice was chanting to him. Reassuring words, an anchor in the storm of pain-filled sensation.

A finger brushed his cheek.

A count of three and he was lifted. A sound passed his lips but he didn’t know what it was other than something hurt.

“Virg, you with me?”

He blinked, but couldn’t get anything more than a blurry impression of where his brother stood. He was standing. Virgil was likely in one of the pull-down gurneys. “Scott?”

“Hey.” That finger touched his cheek again. “Your broken ribs have nicked a vein and you are bleeding internally.” The finger reached up into his hair. Virgil relaxed just a little bit. “You’ve broken your collar bone and cracked your scapula.”

The medical terms spun in his head and what came up was not good. “Well, shit.”

His brother managed the smallest of snorts at that. “We’re on approach to London. You’ll be in good hands soon.”

His breath was dry. “H’all ready in good hands.” His eyes closed unexpectedly and he shoved them open again. “Alan?”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Hanging in there.”

Another blink. “Gordon?”

“Lady Penelope has him. He’s got a hole in his shoulder, but he is stable for the moment.”

A frown. “For the moment?”

“He has lost some blood, but they are right behind us. They’ll make it in plenty of time.”

“Safe.”

The hand in his hair paused. “Virgil?”

“Keep them safe.” Please keep them safe. His little brothers.

The fingers resumed combing his hair. “As safe as I can, Virgil. I promise.”

“Safe.” And his eyes drifted closed again. It was too much effort to open them.

“Virgil? C’mon, stay with me.”

Want to stay.

Can’t.

-o-o-o-

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @ak47stylegirl - I promise I will return to Alan soon - I kinda knocked him out, so he isn’t very chatty at the moment. Also this chapter talks about Virgil, but since he is as unconscious as Alan, um, he doesn’t say much either. ::pines for the lack of the Virg::
> 
> As always, many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for their help with this fic…you know that couple hundred words I scribbled down in ten minutes before work just so I could write something…yeah, that fic which is now approaching 11,000 words in length ::headdesk:: I’m still writing V.T. Green, I promise!
> 
> Warnings: a little bit of language, and Pen and Ink in this bit :D

All of London startled and looked up as multiple Thunderbirds streaked through the clouds above the city. The legendary ships roared in concert at speeds enough to blink and miss.

John played his instruments like the genius he was. Eos had Shadow and One while he concentrated on Two, his brothers’ lives in his hands. Above him, the holographic system let their vitals dance. Alan’s were the poorest, but Virgil’s were dipping lower. Gordon’s had the potential to follow.

“Thunderbird Five, you have clearance at Northolt and permission to land in the parking lot at Hillingdon Hospital.” Colonel Casey paused a moment before switching to the Aunt who loved them. “God’s speed, John.”

He murmured a thank you, but his concentration was total as he manoeuvred Two in for a clean landing beside Accident and Emergency at the London Hospital. Sensors sketched out Eos doing similar at the military base with One and Shadow.

FAB1 streaked in behind Two and landed smoothly beside her huge sister.

“Eos, you have control. I’m going down.” His daughter’s acknowledgement was lost amongst his thoughts.

-o-o-o-

“Gordon, time to go.”

He blinked and found himself leaning on Penelope’s shoulder. What?

A hand reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. His helmet lay on the floor of the car and the odd thought that Grandma would disapprove wandered through his head.

He had the distinct impression that moving was going to hurt, and as he levered himself upright, he found he was too right for his own good. Worse, a groan forced itself out between his teeth.

So much for the stoic hero.

“Stay still.” Her hand ghosted over his arm and she disappeared from his side, only to reappear through the open door on his other side. Her hand touched his cheek and he found himself staring into her beautiful blue eyes.

He could have sat and stared all day.

“Well, my dearest, you don’t have all day. Though I will take the compliment as it was intended.” The smile on her face sparkled.

A blink and he shook himself, trying to focus. His head was foggy. Not a good sign with a bleeding injury. A glance down at himself and he found his shoulder padded and wrapped in bandages. When had that happened? Despite the proficiency of its application, the gauze was stained red and the red was spreading.

Penelope was urging him out of the car.

Damn, he had bled all over the upholstery. “Sorry.”

“Not to worry about that now, Gordon. It is time to go. We don’t want to worry Scott, now do we.”

No, Scott was grey enough already. Though not as grey as the time Gordon had powdered his brother’s hair in his sleep. Now that had been the perfect prank. Spring-loaded pillow launcher and all.

“Well, no wonder he has grey hairs.” She was pulling gently on his uninjured arm. “Out you come.”

“I can carry him, if you like, m’Lady.”

That snapped him out of it. Gordon threw himself out of the car and almost landed on his face as his equilibrium redefined his centre of gravity as being somewhere closer to the south pole.

“Oh dear.” Two sets of hands caught him; one pair gentler than the other.

“Are you quite all right, Mister Gordon?”

“Fine, Parker.” To prove it, he took a step forward...and yes, the ground again attempted to connect with his forehead.

“I think, sir, that you should lie down.” Parker’s hands were firm on his arm as the world continued to wobble.

Now that just wouldn’t do. “No, no, I can walk.” He straightened and tried not to groan.

“Are you sure, sir?”

No. “I’ll be fine.”

“Gordon, you have a bullet hole in your shoulder. Please do not risk your health on my account.” And before he could protest, Penny had slipped herself under his good arm and wrapped hers around his waist.

Despite everything, he found it several kinds of wonderful to be held by her.

Her perfume was all flowery.

Under her power, they made it slowly but surely in the direction of accident and emergency. At one point a huddle of nurses and doctors dashed past. Not long after he was confronted by his eldest brother, worry in the blue of his eyes.

“Hey, Scott.” A blink and two important factors shot to the forefront of his brain. “Alan? Virgil?” There had been dirt. So much dirt.

Those eyes turned in askance to Penelope and their brow crinkled before darting back to him. “C’mon, Gordon, time for you to lie down.”

Scott took him gently from Penelope. “Hey, I wanna stay with Penny.”

“I’m not leaving you, Gordon. Please lie down and relax.” She reached out and touched his cheek again.

That was nice.

Her gentle smile was even nicer.

“Okay, loverboy, rest time for you.” And Scott was manhandling him onto a hover stretcher. A nurse appeared from nowhere and he was being dragged into the concrete maze of the major hospital.

Penny held his hand.

And he held on tight.

-o-o-o-

John hit atmosphere and the elevator’s thrusters kicked in with a roar.

Data streamed into his tablet. Further information on the man who had captured his brothers and the implications of the events that followed.

The man was dead. GDF forces had swooped in and picked survivors out of the rubble, forced to do the job of IR while fifty percent of their operatives were being hospitalised. International Rescue was down for the count.

Eos was juggling incoming calls. John had calls of his own to make.

Grandma was beside herself with worry and Kayo was on her way to collect the Tracy matriarch.

John was on his way to collect Scott. Or at least the pieces of him that were likely all over the waiting room floor.

Scott never managed well when a brother was injured and this time there were three. One critically and two not far from joining him. While John worried about Alan, Virgil and Gordon, Scott was a concern of another kind.

And he wasn’t answering his comms.

It was a long eight minutes to London.

Gravity was its usual annoyance, as were the odd and gawking stares in his direction as he landed in the parking lot. With TB2 having made her entrance and exit shortly before, the press had been alerted and he found himself subject to a lot of unwanted media attention.

“John Tracy! Can you tell us what happened?”

“How many members of International Rescue have died?”

“Who shot the extremist?”

“Is Alan Tracy dead?”

“Who inherits International Rescue?”

What the f-? There were flashing lights all around him, holocams hovering about like bees.

John hated crowds, especially those involving the press. Scott went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t exposed to them, but his brother wasn’t available right now.

Head down, no eye contact. “No comment.”

“No comment.”

They crowded in on him and he grit his teeth.

A sharp crack and a yelp. A squawk and the clattering of plastic on concrete. A scream and a flash of light. John looked up to find holocams falling like rain. One close to him simply stopped and dropped. Another sparked, spun and dove at the nearest reporter. She screamed and ran.

The holocam chased her.

Oh.

The crowd began to disperse in erratic squeals and yelps of fear. John took advantage and dashed through to the doors of the hospital. Behind him, the elevator fired its thrusters, adding to the confusion, and launched towards orbit.

“Eos, you are dangerous.”

“Yes, John, and don’t you forget it.” The amusement in her voice had him smiling.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

A glance at the fast disappearing elevator, he turned and hurried inside.

-o-o-o-

Scott was stuck in the waiting room.

He hated waiting rooms. He hated waiting.

But more than anything he hated hospital waiting rooms. Stark and miserable they were turning points between pain and relief.

And the chairs always sucked.

His head was pounding.

Brains and Moffie had left to find them all some food, Moffie dragging Brains behind her. Penny sat not far from him, prim and neat as always, Parker beside her, ever vigilant. She smiled gently at him if he looked in her direction.

He didn’t look in her direction.

She had handed Gordon over to him, concern in her eyes as his little brother played the manly card before passing out completely almost as soon as Scott had managed to get him onto the stretcher. Same reason as his other two brothers were in this god forsaken place - blood loss.

Too much Tracy blood had been spilt today.

And why? Who was that asshole? His eyes still stared at him over that gun barrel. Two still loomed behind him. Virgil still lay limp on the ground, pain in every breath.

The grapple gun and that godawful crunch of bone.

No expression, no sound. Just gone.

Cable trailing.

The backwash of its passing had been like a sudden breeze.

The sound of Virgil in pain.

So much pain.

“Scott?” The voice was soft, and unmarred by space static. He looked up to find John standing in front of him, still in his uniform, solid, dependable and there.

Pushing himself to his feet, he met his younger brother eye to eye. A beat and Scott wrapped his arms around him and tugged John close. A breath against the smooth material of John’s spacesuit and his brother returned the embrace.

“How are they?”

Scott bit his lip. “It was close.” God, so close. “But you know that.”

“I do.”

John was no doubt frustrated that he no longer had access to his brothers’ vital stats now their uniforms had been removed. Scott squeezed him just a touch tighter. “You gonna hack the hospital?”

“Give me five.”

And with that they separated, John taking a seat beside him. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, John was holding up his tablet with three columns of stats scrolling across it.

All three were stable. Alan was still low and in surgery, as was Virgil. Gordon was being prepped. John flicked a finger and they had video.

“Still with us.”

Scott swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Who was he?”

“A thug. Money, power, the usual.” John’s turquoise gaze narrowed a little at him. “He’s dead.”

“I know.”

“So do the press.”

Scott’s head shot up. “What?”

“One of the questions they threw at me on the way in. ‘Who shot the extremist?’”

“Aw, hell.”

“That is one descriptor.” Scott knew what was coming next. “They are going to want to know the answer to that question.”

“Fuck.” It was little more than breath, but it came from his gut. No. Please, no.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“He did it to save me.”

“He did it to save all of you.”

Scott let his head drop into his hands. “He may not even remember.”

“It’s on record. Two’s cameras.”

Of course, he knew that. “I know that.” His head throbbed the obvious at him.

John was frowning at him. “Have you seen a doctor? That is quite a shiner you’ve got on the boil there.”

“Too busy with Gordon.” Scott waved off his brother’s concern.

John caught his hand. “Do I need to pull up your stats to convince you? You took a few nasty hits today.”

“Had to, he was going to kill Virgil.”

John’s eyes flickered at that. “It doesn’t change the fact you need attention and probably a bed at the very least.”

“I need to wait for news on Alan, Gordon and Virgil.”

John waved the tablet at him. “Here is your news. I can let you know if anything changes.” Just to piss him off, John stood up, and, pulling him along behind, approached the desk. A few efficient words and Scott was suddenly being escorted to a cubicle.

John followed. No doubt to make sure he got there and stayed.

Any other time he would have stood up to his little brother, dug his heels in and refused. But there had been so much pain today, so much everything, he found he had nothing left.

He just wanted his little brothers to be safe.

It was his job to look after them.

“Scott, take a breath, rest a moment, give yourself a chance to recover.” As Scott sat on the edge of the bed and the nurse darted off to get equipment, John stood directly in front of him and caught his eyes. “We will get through this, I promise. We will find a way.”

A half-hearted smirk. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

John’s lips curled into a soft smile. “I borrowed it from the best.”

-o-o-o-

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @ak47stylegirl Hopefully this makes up for the lack of Alan and Virgil in the previous chapter. This is the fic that never ends…I’m hoping it will wind up soon. Only a few threads left, but then it has a mind of its own.
> 
> Thank you to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 who continue to support my muse wonderfully ::hugs you both madly::
> 
> Thank you to all of you who have liked and commented on this fic. You have supported my muse like you wouldn’t believe. You made it into what it is, otherwise it probably would have stopped at the two hundred odd words it started at - we are now well over 13,000 words. You push me to new heights ::hugs you all::
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this.
> 
> -o-o-o-

His brother’s hand was still and lifeless. None of that boundless energy moved the muscles, the strong and artistic fingers lay dead in his.

Alan drew in a strong breath and it strangled him. Why, Virgil, why? He didn’t have to die. He didn’t.

He could have escaped.

But he didn’t.

He stayed.

Alan cried out, but his throat was raw and sore and there was no sound.

Virgil, damn you!

And Alan Tracy woke up crying.

“Hey.” The voice was soft and the touch against his cheek gentle. “Allie, it’s okay.”

His vision was blurred with tears and his own throat was attempting to strangle him. A hurried blink and Scott sharpened into focus.

His big brother.

His battered big brother.

One eye was swollen shut and an awful shade of red and purple. His hand was holding Alan’s.

Alan pulled his fingers away without thought. “Scott?”

“Hey, little brother. How are you feeling?” Scott’s one functional eye glanced down at his now empty hand and he withdrew it with a frown.

Alan didn’t answer, doing his best to shed the horrible weight on his heart.

Virgil shouldn’t have done that.

“Alan?”

Grandma appeared beside the other side of his bed.

His bed.

He was in hospital.

The non-sequitur drew him up short. “What happened?” His voice was little more than a rasp and his chest hurt.

“What do you remember?” Scott’s voice, usually so deep was still soft, somewhat tentative.

Alan stared at him. “Virgil dying.”

Scott’s one healthy eye widened. “No, no. Look.” And he pointed beyond Alan, to his right. Grandma shifted and there lay Virgil.

The man looked half mummified and was horribly still, but the stats above his bed flickered steadily. Alan stared a moment, the memories clogging his head.

Dirt. Darkness.

Death.

He burst into tears again.

Oh god.

“Hey, hey, hey, Allie. He’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Gordy’s going to be fine.”

It took a moment and his chest ached with emotion. “Gordon?”

And Scott moved to one side to reveal his fish brother sitting up in bed waving in his direction.

“No, Gordon, you are staying put.” Penelope, Lady Penelope. And yes, there she was, holding Gordon back from getting out of his bed.

“But Scott got to get out of bed.” It was little more than a childish whine.

“Scott didn’t get shot.”

Shot?

And it hit him. The hole. The gunshot. Gordon collapsing.

Alan sucked in a breath. “What the hell happened?”

Scott’s lips thinned, but he opened his mouth to answer, just as John pushed open the door and wobbled through with a tray of coffees and a bag of something. “Alan! You’re awake.”

“Keep it down, John. Virgil isn’t.” Grandma hissed at his older brother and he was brought up short.

“It would be a damned good idea if he did wake up.” It was muttered by Scott, but Alan heard him.

Another glance in Virgil’s direction. His brother was lying stiff on his back, pale and lacking all animation. “Is he okay?”

“He’s going to be fine, dear. He just needs some time to get well again.” She turned back to Alan. “Just as you do. Relax, honey, it is all over now.”

But Alan couldn’t keep his eyes off Virgil. “Why did he do that?” His voice was high-pitched, fragile, and desperate for an answer.

“Do what?”

Scott touched his arm and Alan turned back to him. “Stay. He didn’t have to stay. He could have died. And for nothing!” That last came out as a shout. As much a shout as his aching chest could manage. “He was going to die.”

His big brother didn’t answer, something flickering in his eyes.

“He loves you, Alan.” It came from Grandma and Alan found himself looking up at mirror blue eyes. “Sometimes love has us doing silly things.”

“He was going to die.”

“He didn’t.”

“He didn’t know that.”

“Yes, I did.”

It was croaky and spoke of so much pain. Every head in the room turned towards Virgil to find his brown eyes dopey, but open and searching. They found Alan and closed, as if in relief, before opening slowly again. “Couldn’t do anything else. Couldn’t leave you.” The words drifted off into a breathless rasp followed by a groan.

Scott was moving before his brother finished. His body got in the way between Alan and Virgil. Alan reached out an arm and wordlessly tried to grab him.

“Scott.” Grandma grabbed his big brother, dragging him into an impromptu hug.

Alan could see Virgil again.

“Why?” It was a single syllable and he wasn’t even sure his big brother was still conscious.

“Couldn’t let you...alone.” A frown flickered across his brow.

“Virgil...” Scott was almost straining against Grandma’s grip.

Alan couldn’t reach Virgil and Virgil couldn’t reach out; his entire left side bound up in bandages. But suddenly Alan’s bed was moving sideways, his drip shifted out of the way by a hand above the bed. A blink.

John.

John was moving his bed.

The beds slapped together as Grandma dragged Scott out of the way. Alan could finally reach his big brother.

Fingers sketched across bandages.

Brown eyes smiled at him sleepily before sliding shut.

“Virgil?”

Scott’s voice was soft. As soft as it had been with Alan, and Alan felt a sudden sorrow for his biggest brother.

“He’s okay, Scott.” A slow blink, his own weaknesses threatening to drag him under again.

“He’s okay.”

-o-o-o-

Kayo squared her shoulders, her eyes latching onto her aunt. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am, I have to be.”

“Unacceptable.”

“Virgil, no matter the reason, killed a man. A very prominent man in this country. He had a lot of support and they are demanding recompense.”

“I don’t care. The man was a thug. He held the Tracys at gunpoint, shot Gordon, tortured Virgil...” She swallowed attempting to get her anger under control. “How can you possibly be considering this?”

“I’m not considering anything, Kayo. I have no choice in the matter. Do you think I would do this if I didn’t have to? He’s my godson, for goodness sake.” And the powerful woman bowed for just a moment, the distress at what she was being forced to do showing through the cracks. “If you have an alternative, please...”

Kayo almost took a step back. Colonel Casey had been part of her life since she was little. Never had she seen the woman this vulnerable. Never had she seen the woman plead.

“They can’t have him, Colonel. I will not allow it.”

The GDF colonel straightened, a mixture of concern and hope on her face. “Kayo...”

“Trust me. They won’t.” With that she turned and strode out of the woman’s office.

The moment she was out of earshot, she hit her comms. “Penny, Eos, John, we have a situation.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil may be willing to die for his little brother, but to be trapped in a hospital room with the two youngest was a whole different kind of hell.

“Alan, it was my turn.”

“So not your turn, bro. You had an extra move. I didn’t miss it, I’m not that stupid.”

The argument had been on and off for the last fifteen minutes, and if Virgil had been able to get out of bed, he would have cuffed both his brothers about the ears just to get them to shut up.

Of course, he was more than grateful that both of them were mending well, both sitting up in bed picking at each other. Alan’s leg was thoroughly wrapped in bandages, but it wasn’t long before he’d be released. Gordon’s shoulder was strapped up almost as much as Virgil’s, but unlike the engineer, the bullet hadn’t actually broken any bones and he was healing fast.

Virgil had both a broken collar bone and cracked scapula, not to mention the curse of two snapped ribs. Surgery had pinned them back to his spine, but so much ow.

And the bruising...

His left was properly mangled, but his right shoulder, along with his back, were decorated in blue as much as Scott’s face.

His eldest brother was a mess, more so mentally than physically, but a mess nonetheless. Officially he had been discharged, but the pilot had refused to leave and money had its ways.

Scott hovered as expected. Three brothers out of commission was enough for a whole new crop of grey hair and it was rare that he, John or Grandma weren’t here right now. Left alone with the two injured younger brothers, Virgil was considering some grey of his own.

“Awww, c’mon, Gordy, that’s cheating!”

“Them’s the rules, bro.”

“Bullshit!”

“Will you guys shut up!”

It came out in a rush and, honestly, he knew it was crabby of him, but, god, he felt like crap.

“You okay, Virg?” Gordon’s voice slipped into worry.

Damn.

“Just keep it down, could you?”

He could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him. “Okay, sorry, Virgil.” It was a chorus.

He didn’t sigh, no, he didn’t.

Yes, he did.

“Sorry, guys.”

“S’okay.” Alan.

Virgil just closed his eyes.

A hand on his forehead made him jump...and hiss at the sudden movement.

“Relax, bro. You’re tense enough to break another bone.”

Gordon was hovering over him.

“What’re you doing out of bed?”

“Just checking up on my sick brother.” The aquanaut’s concern was obvious in his voice.

“I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

“You look like shit.”

“Well, thanks, that makes me feel so much better.” He blinked his eyes open. “Go back to bed.”

“You need some more painkillers?”

Shit. God, no. That would let the memories loose.

“No, I’m fine, Gordon, just leave me alone.”

“See, Alan, I told you he would lie his ass off.”

“Okay, I owe you twenty.”

“It was fifty. You said double or nothing.”

“Fifty is not double twenty.”

“Guys! God, get another room.”

He loved them, but, for goodness sake!

“Sorry, Virgil.”

Again with the chorus. He couldn’t even turn over and shut them out that way. He clenched his eyes closed.

There was a scuffle and a protest beside his bed and he just sighed. Sleep would be wonderful.

“I see you are neglecting yourself again.” The deeper tones of his eldest brother had him letting out an exhausted breath. “Sorry, I left you alone with the terrible two.”

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“Gordon’s right. You are lying your ass off.” Fingers touched his hair again, brushing it off his brow.

“I’m fine, Scott. Alan and Gordon are just having fun. It’s fine.” That last syllable was no more than another exhaled breath. God, he was tired.

But everything hurt so much.

A grunt from Scott and Virgil opened his eyes.

His brother truly looked like shit.

“You okay?”

“Better than you. You need rest.”

His eyes tracked over Scott’s injuries. “Pot. Kettle.”

“No, I think your injuries trump mine by a massive scale.”

Virgil just grunted at him. In the background, his other two brothers were far too quiet for his comfort.

And yes, that was irony itself.

“I’m fine.”

“Sleep and prove it.” That one blue eye was stabbing him into his pillow.

“I’m trying.”

“You’re in pain.”

“Of course, I am.” Okay, so it came out harsher than expected.

“You need more painkillers.”

“I need peace and quiet.”

Scott didn’t answer that. Gordon peered around his eldest brother, obviously not nagged enough to make it back to his bed.

“Gordon, bed.” It was automatic and Virgil didn’t miss the slight curve of Scott’s lips at his words.

“Only if you take more drugs. There is your deal, Virg. Drugs or the Gordo show.”

“Gordo and Alan Show!” And yes, Alan yelled it from his bed.

Scott was smirking outright.

For the love of-

Scott was grinning.

“You asshole, you planned this, didn’t you.”

“Possibly.” The smile vanished. “But you deserve it. You’ve been in pain all morning and you won’t help yourself. So, I brought in the big guns.”

“That’s us.”

Thank you, Alan.

“Interesting tactic.”

“Tactics are my skillset.” The hand was combing his hair again.

“Okay, fine. Get them to drug my ass, but I claim no responsibility for the result.”

“You’ll do fine. You’re amongst family.”

He eyed Gordon. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Trust me, Virg, I’m not in a joking mood.” And all the smile disappeared off Gordon’s face. “You’re in pain, please, just take the drugs.”

But Scott had already hit his comms, John’s voice answering. A moment later, a nurse entered the room with a syringe.

God, he hated the drugs. They made him stupid. And the memories...

“It will be okay, Virgil.” That hand continued to stroke his hair. “You’re safe.”

Moments later as the heat crawled up his arm, he questioned that. The world shifted and separated from him. He didn’t feel safe. There was something gnawing at him and, like in the sleep from earlier, it found him in the haze.

“I’m sorry.”

Fingers still combing through his hair, his brother just smiled.

Before doubling and drifting away.

-o-o-o-


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are over 17,500 words later at the end of this ‘ten minute fic’. ::headdesk:: I have been staring at this for the last day and a half determined to end it. I hope it has lived up to all your expectations. Thank you all for your wonderful support. This fandom is amazing.
> 
> For @ak47stylegirl I admit that I had hoped to have more Alan in this fic than ended up occurring, but Virgil, as always, ate my brain. I do hope you enjoyed the moments where I did give Alan his due. There is another good chunk of Alan in this part too. I do hope you enjoy it ::hugs::
> 
> Thank you to both @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for fielding all my wibblies and whining ::hugs you both::  
Warnings: About 4400 words, a brief mention of Penelope/Gordon, but not much else.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ::collapses in a heap::

Penelope Creighton-Ward was a woman of influence. Her reputation preceded her and she was quite happy to see the ambassador swallow when he caught sight of her. She sensed Parker’s gaze sharpen and reached out a hand to calm him.

Really, her driver had been on edge since the Tracys were injured. Admittedly, she couldn’t blame him, she was unsettled herself, but for Parker that meant a stepping up of his defences to the point he suspected everyone who crossed their path.

Parker could be formidable when he wanted to be.

She held out a hand, palm down in an obvious display of superiority to the man in front of her. “Mr Ambassador, I am so sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.”

He took her hand in a blatantly limp clasp barely there before he pulled back his limb, possibly in fear of losing it.

Parker really should tone down his glare.

“Lady Penelope, I am mystified as to why you called this meeting.”

“Ambassador, I am sure you are aware of the recent incident involving International Rescue on your country’s soil?”

His eyes widened a moment before he apparently found what little steel he possessed. He was an experienced Ambassador, after all. She would dread to think she would be faced taking down a wretched useless being. Despite the speed that would enable, she liked to think she would have a challenge at least.

“I am well aware. We look forward to the extradition of our General’s murderer.”

“Well, really, this is a distressing matter.”

“It is very much indeed. General Kasdan was much beloved in our country. We seek justice.”

“Yes, justice should be maintained on all fronts.” She glanced at one of the man’s attendants. “Could I bother you for a cup of tea?”

He blinked, the question as out of left field as she aimed it to be. “Most certainly.” He waved her to a settee and took a seat himself once she was comfortable. Tea was ordered and provided. Surprisingly it was quite good, a genuine fresh Indian brew.

Parker did not sit down and continued to drill holes in the man’s head with his eyes.

She really must talk to him about that.

The Ambassador glanced nervously at her driver before turning back to her. “What can I do for you, Lady Penelope?”

“Not much really. I’m just here to advise you that both the Creighton-Ward estate and Tracy Industries will be withdrawing all production, research, funds and agreements from your country.”

“What?” His expression was quite satisfying.

“Your general’s conduct left much to be desired. International Rescue is respected the world over and there were lives involved. Your general endangered those lives. In fact, one member of International Rescue was shot, another tortured and their commander held at gunpoint.”

“They were trespassing!”

“The International Rescue Agreements accord them access to everywhere, Ambassador. They have no interest in technology. Their technology outstrips the majority of the planet. What possible reason would they have to compromise your military secrets?” The fact that John already had, and said it was as easy as hacking his own phone was irrelevant. Since he had found little of interest anyway, was the more pertinent detail. The general had simply used the situation to try and leverage IR’s technology, something she could not allow.

“They murdered the general!”

“That is unclear. The general was buried under a building.”

“We have witnesses. The green rescue vehicle shot him.”

“Produce your witnesses.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a moment. “This is not the theatre for such an introduction. The proof will be shown in court as it should be, once the murderer has been extradited.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, this is definitely unpleasant.” A theatrical sigh. “It is beside the point, however, as I am only here to notify you of the cessation of our business dealings.” She made to get up.

“But you can’t do that.”

“My dear man, why not?”

“Our country is small. We rely on such business. What about our people?”

Her lips curled up into a smile. Did the man have any idea of the megacorporations he was dealing with. “Oh, your people will be fine. The Chairman of Tracy Industries expressed a similar concern, so we have put in place certain securities that will assist any of our staff who are affected by this withdrawal.” She dipped her head in graciousness. She had contacts and Kayo was visiting a handful of fellow agents as she spoke. “There is nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

For just a moment she got the impression he might have realised what exactly was going on. Another arched eyebrow. He was a politician, he should understand the implications. The moment passed and she fell back on her initial assessment. Yes, this one was simple wealth, silver spoon and disregard for all below them all the way through. Probably coasted his way into this position.

A mental shrug. To her advantage.

She rose to her feet. “I shall take my leave. I guess you need to inform your government.”

“There will be reprisals.”

She stared at him. Really? A threat? “Yes, well, hopefully all this unpleasantness will be done with as fast as possible.” Parker shifted in closer as she rose. “Good day to you, Mr Ambassador.”

He bowed awkwardly and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Gordon would have found it all hilarious.

The thought of the man she loved and the injuries sustained at the hand of this government had her spine straightening. Her lips thinned as she turned and Parker shot her a concerned glance. She strode unescorted from the room, Parker hurrying to catch up.

This would all end very quickly. She would make sure of it.

-o-o-o-

Alan eyed his middle brother. John had commandeered a corner of their hospital room and set up a desk with an array of computer screens and holographic interfaces, no doubt hooked into Thunderbird Five. He had been busily doing something for a couple of hours at least. Alan had been asleep at the time, impromptu naps his main business at the moment as his body healed, but Gordon had filled him in when he woke.

His now absent brother knew more than he was letting on, but Alan knew better than to press it when the aquanaut got that look in his eye. Gordon may play the rapscallion at home, but the truth of his character was far more complex. Even Alan knew that.

John on the other hand...

“What are you doing, John?”

His brother glanced over at him and smiled just a little. “Cleaning house, taking over a small country, saving lives, the usual.”

Alan glared at him. “Well, you could just say you weren’t going to tell me. What’s such a big secret anyway?”

John eyed him a moment and shrugged. “Nothing.”

“And why are you doing it here?”

“Someone has to keep an eye on you while Scott’s in meetings.”

That was another thing. “Why is Scott in meetings? Meetings about what?”

“Tracy Industries is making a few important moves on the global market. The Chairman wanted to be onsite.” Another shrug.

“Did he wear makeup?”

“What?! No.” John’s eyes flickered back to a screen that beeped at him. “He has nothing to hide.”

“What Scott ‘hates the media with a passion’ Tracy making a show of his black and blue face? The press will be all over it.”

“Exactly.” John hit a few keys and a smirk was drawn over his features.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His brother turned to face him. “It means you need to be quiet and let Virgil rest.”

Alan pouted and glared at the wall.

“Hey, you were offered a separate room.”

“Shut up.” So, he couldn’t bear to be separated from Virgil right now. The dreams that shook him awake far too often day or night...he needed to see his brother safe and sound beside him.

He wished Gordon would hurry up and get back from wherever he had wandered off to. Being unable to get out of bed without difficulty sucked big time. He had crutches, but he wasn’t really up to it yet.

Sulkily, he grabbed the holoprojector remote and hit play. The sound fed to his ear buds and he was suddenly faced with a newsreel thick with the name ‘Tracy’.

Oh god.

He slumped where he lay, but didn’t turn it off. Maybe they would get to something interesting after they had finished blabbing about his family.

Out the corner of his eye he saw John glance up, curiosity on his face. A blink and he returned to his work, whatever the hell that was.

Alan sulked a little more.

Virgil started snoring. His brother was stuck on his back, so it was becoming a very, very familiar sound.

It didn’t improve Alan’s mood in the slightest.

_‘In a dramatic move Tracy Industries has removed all support from the government and will be withdrawing all activities from the country as soon as possible...’_

What? He hit rewind, and the story confirmed that, yes, the family business was pulling out of that same country that orchestrated the events of the previous week.

“John, we’re pulling out? What about the workers?”

“Scott has it covered, Alan, don’t worry.” John didn’t even look up.

Virgil muttered in his sleep.

Alan eyed him a second, but he settled. “Won’t such a big move destabilise their economy?”

John did look up at that. “You have been paying attention to your lessons.”

“Well, derr, small country minus big money equals big hole. It’s not like it’s hard. We could send them into a depression.”

John shook his head. “Scott won’t allow it.”

“Then what the hell is he doing?”

“SCOTT! NO!”

Everything stopped in shock for a split second.

Virgil was tumbling out of bed.

John was across the room faster than Alan thought possible, and caught his brother before he could hit the floor. A heft got him back onto the mattress, but not without a sharp groan of pain.

“Virgil?” Alan was ashamed to find his voice had gone up an octave.

“Hey, Virgil, wake up. You’re safe.” Their older brother did not respond, only groaning as he moved against the sheets.

Alan hit his call button.

John yanked up the rails on the sides of Virgil’s bed to prevent him falling off again. “Virgil? You with me, big brother?”

Alan swore against his inability to get out of bed.

“Scott! No! Please, no!” It was mumbled, but desperate.

“Virgil!” His brother was so damned hard to wake up when deeply asleep.

John cupped his brother’s face with his hands. “Virgil, you’re safe. Scott’s safe. Wake up!”

Even from where Alan was sitting, he could hear his big brother’s gasp and the resulting whimper of pain. “J-hn? Oh god.”

“Lay still. You’ve had a bit of a tumble.”

“Wh-t?” But he was interrupted as a nurse hurried into the room. John explained the situation and the curtain was drawn around his brother, shutting Alan out.

The curtain didn’t mask the soft sounds of pain as his brother was examined. Or John’s tentative words of comfort.

Alan wanted no more than to reach out and reassure himself that Virgil was okay.

It wasn’t long, but it was, and the curtain was pushed back by the nurse and with a small smile in his direction, she left the room.

Alan ignored her. He only had eyes for his big brother, limp on his bed, eyes closed. God, it hurt to see him like this.

And suddenly it all came to a head. “Why did you do it?”

Both brothers turned to stare at him, Virgil blearily.

“Why did you stay with me? Do you have any idea how it feels to see you like this and know it is because of me?!”

Those brown eyes widened.

John took a step in Alan’s direction. “Allie, not now.”

“Why the hell not? If he hadn’t stayed, he wouldn’t be hurt. He didn’t have to stay. Virgil, why?!” It came out as anguished and tear-filled.

“Couldn’t leave.” It was little more than breath.

“You’d rather die?! Do you know how it made me feel to know you were dying just to keep me company?!”

“Couldn’t leave.”

“WHY?!”

“You would h-ve died. Structure w-d’ve collapsed.” Those brown eyes closed in pain.

John interrupted. “For god’s sake, Alan.”

But Virgil’s right hand reached out and grabbed at his space-loving brother. “No. Couldn’t get out. Had to stay. Couldn’t kill my little brother.” That last ended in a groan.

The nurse returned, a syringe in her hand. A moment of wordless staring at his injured brother as she fiddled with his IV and Alan lost his chance to say anything more, Virgil’s eyes closing in drug-fueled relief.

John brushed his fingers across Virgil’s hand, the man’s whole body relaxing into the bed as he drifted off again.

Alan just stared.

He didn’t say anything as John shifted closer to him, hesitated a moment before sitting down on the edge of his bed. “You okay?”

“No.” His voice was small.

A hand landed on the sheets over his uninjured leg. “Want to talk about it?”

He flicked a glance up at his third biggest brother. John, as always, was sincere.

“He couldn’t get out?”

John’s eyes flickered to his older brother and back. “We had the barest of scans, but Virgil would have known. It’s his speciality, after all.”

He looked down at his hands. “He couldn’t get out without endangering me, so he sacrificed himself.”

“You both survived. Knowing him, he was relying on us to get you out.”

“But what if you couldn’t?”

John sighed. “It was his choice.” A tilt of his head. “Would you have chosen any different?”

And suddenly the situation was reversed in his head. He must have said something, because the next moment he found himself wrapped in John’s arms, his head on his shoulder. “S’okay, Allie. S’okay.”

It wasn’t okay, but Alan clung anyway.

-o-o-o-

Virgil Tracy hated painkillers for a reason. Not only did they make him stupid, they left him in a fog for hours afterwards.

And the dreams.

Virgil was a visual person. It was one of his strengths. It gave him his art and his engineering, even his piano.

He could see music.

The downside was when the nightmares hit, they hit hard and in technicolour. And there was enough fertile material in his history to torture him for several lifetimes.

Though, this time, his brain didn’t have to reach too far back.

Dirt.

So much dirt.

He clawed at it, but it kept coming, burying both him and his brother. “Alan, no!” But then it switched to that gun holding Scott’s life in its barrel.

“Scott!”

And that godawful crunch of bone as he killed the man.

God.

But I had to.

Had to.

Had to.

And it would start again.

And again.

Held down by chemical restraints, he had no choice but to endure.

Until he couldn’t.

“Virgil!”

No, more, please...

“VIRGIL!”

He startled awake to find his eldest brother holding his face, eyes drilling into him.

A gasp.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Oh god.

He closed his eyes. The rest of his body coming online in a variety of complaints. “Scott.”

“You okay?”

No.

But he didn’t answer. His brother already knew what he would say and the reality he would be lying about.

He forced his eyes open, blinking, urging himself to a coherent level of consciousness.

Scott was in a suit.

Virgil cleared his throat. “Nice threads.”

Scott straightened, unconsciously straightening out the jacket. “Gotta look the part. The Board isn’t into jeans and sneakers.”

Virgil smiled just a little. “You are the part.”

His brother’s lips curled, his eyes fond. “But only a part.”

“I thought I was the drugged one. You’re getting soggy.”

His brother brushed that away with his eyes. “What is it, Virgil?”

“What’s what?” He frowned at the rest of the room. Alan’s holoprojector spat the tail end of some old rerun to a missing audience. “Where is everyone?”

“Gordon took Alan down to the cafe. John’s following up something for me.”

“You’re babysitting?”

Scott sighed and, grasping the bed railing, shoved it down so he could sit on the edge of the bed. A hand landed on Virgil’s sheet covered leg. “A big brother’s job is never done.”

He vaguely wondered what time of the day it was. A glance at the projector as it flicked to an advertisement and a guess would be dinner time. “I’m okay, Scott. On the mend.”

He was. Slowly.

“But what’s bugging you?”

“Bugging me?”

“Why don’t you want to take your meds?”

His lips pressed together harder. Scott knew the effects painkillers had on him. “You know what they do to me.”

“Sure, I do. Except they don’t usually have you screaming and falling out of bed.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. You scared the shit out of John and Alan yesterday. And just now, you gave me a few extra greys I really didn’t need.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not looking for an apology. I want to help.”

He didn’t answer that and the only sound in the room for a full minute was some report about the Chinese government shouted at Alan’s empty pillow.

The hand on his leg squeezed. “Look, do you need to talk to someone?”

“No.” God, no.

“Then talk to me?”

He knew if he looked up, Scott would be deploying those eyes of his. He was no younger brother, but the man had had to beguile his father for years, so he had a vast experience of manoeuvring to get his way.

A sigh and he closed his eyes again.

“Virgil, please.”

“I killed him.”

The was a painful pause before his brother spoke. Virgil didn’t look up.

“You remember that.”

“Yes, I remember it.” The snap of bone. He shuddered and his ribs protested. The sharp indrawn breath was not missed by Scott, the hand on his leg squeezed gently again.

“You saved my life.”

Virgil did look up at that. “Yes, I did and I would do it again.”

The frown that appeared on Scott’s face set his stomach churning.

“I don’t regret it. He can rot in hell for what he did to us. For what he wanted to do to you, to me, for shooting Gordon and hurting Allie...he didn’t suffer enough.”

Now the frown was more like a furrow carving his brother’s face in half.

“But it doesn’t make it right.” The breath in his body escaped and he sagged back against the pillow. “It goes against everything I believe in, we believe in. There had to be another way, but I couldn’t see it and he had you, and I couldn’t...”

The hand had his leg in a solid grip. “Virgil, you did your best. You saved us.”

“And what now? Can International Rescue function with a murderer for a pilot?”

“It has worked fine up to now.”

Virgil stared at him. “What?”

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. “Do you think all those years in the air force were spent flying planes for fun?”

Virgil opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He swallowed. “That’s different.”

His brother tilted his head. “Is it really? It was us or them, Virgil. I see no difference.”

“I’m not a soldier.”

“No, you’re not. But everyone has their breaking point. You were defending your family, Virgil. People have killed for far less.”

“But I don’t do that! I save lives, Scott. There had to be a way!”

“It was our lives at stake! He forfeited any rights the moment he shoved that gun in my face. If I could have taken him down, I would have. He shot Gordon! A few centimetres to the left and we would have lost him. I support what you did. In fact, I am damn proud of what you managed while so injured. You did what you always do, Virgil, you saved us!”

Virgil stared up at him. There was actual pride in his brother’s face. “You’re proud of me?” It was said with a little awe.

“Hell, Virgil, yes, I’ve always been proud of you. More now than ever.”

“But-“

_-Tracy Industries! _

It was shouted with such hatred, Virgil jumped, his whole body twinging. It came from the holoprojector where a decidedly angry man was shouting.

_They did this! International Rescue killed General Kasdan and to protect themselves they sent in their lawyers to destabilised the government. There must be an investigation!_

_Ambassador, your accusations are baseless. Tracy Industries was merely exercising its right to withdraw from a country whose regime does not recognise human rights._

Virgil’s eyes widened. Aunt Val stood calm and in control in what was obviously a press conference. The angry man was being dragged off the podium. She turned back to the audience with a small smile.

_Apologies for the interruption. As I was saying, the Global Defence Force will be aiding the country’s military during this transition. Despite the Ambassador’s concerns, several large corporations, including Tracy Industries are sending support to the area to help make this transition the most peaceful. An interim government will be installed in accordance with the global treaties. The people will be protected._

A glance at his brother, the Chairman of Tracy Industries, and Virgil couldn’t help but stare. The suit almost made his brother an alien entity.

“What did you do?”

“What was necessary.”

“What did you do?!”

His brother turned to look him in the eye. “The government was corrupt. It didn’t take much to take it down.”

“Scott! Why?!”

“Because it was the right thing to do.”

“But all those people...” He stared back at the holoprojector, now showing scenes of the earthquake devastation.

“They will be cared for. I made sure of it.”

“But why?!”

And his brother showed his first uncertainty, his eyes not catching Virgil’s.

“Scott?”

“They wanted to extradite you.”

Virgil stared at him. “What?”

“I couldn’t let them have you, so no country, no government, no extradition.”

“You took out an entire country because of me?!”

“Well, I didn’t do it all by myself. But honestly, it didn’t take as much as I thought it might. Penny, Kayo and John are very good at what they do, after all.”

“Scott!” Shock, awe, fear, guilt and an indescribable knot of something tied up his throat and denied him words.

“It was the only solution.”

He had nothing. He couldn’t stop staring at his brother. The man who had looked after him all his life. The man he admired above all others. The man he would follow into hell itself.

Scott frowned. “You okay?”

The man who wielded so much power he could take down whole countries at will.

“Tell me they will all be safe. Tell me you haven’t traded my life for another’s.”

Those blue eyes slid away and refused to look at him. “I can’t guarantee anything, Virgil, you know that. I have done everything I can to prevent that scenario. But I can’t guarantee no one will get hurt.” Scott exhaled before turning to him again. “But I could not let them take you. I couldn’t.” There was something raw and painful in his eyes.

A rush of love for his brother clouded Virgil’s mind. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just...” A faint and desperate smile. “Just get better. I need you with me.” A tilt of his head. “We need you with us.”

As if cued for appearance there was a yell in the hallway. “John, it was Alan’s turn to pay.”

“Honestly, Gordon, I don’t care.”

“But he owes me.”

“Sucked in, sucker!”

“So mature, Alan.”

“He deserves it.”

“Hey, I was the one who escorted your ass all the way down there.”

“Yeah, so I could pay for your meal.”

And their three brothers entered the room. John was directing Alan in a hoverchair while Gordon, arm in a sling, grumped alongside. The moment they caught sight of Scott and Virgil, they froze.

“Scotty, hey! Looking swish.” Virgil didn’t need to glance at his brother to know he had rolled his eyes.

Alan’s gaze latched onto Virgil for a second before looking away again. That was going to take some time to work through.

John’s stare bounced between the both of them. Virgil could see the calculations occurring behind his eyes, all of them fast coming to the conclusion that something had happened. “You okay, Virgil?”

“Getting there.”

The turquoise gaze darted to Scott and his brother dipped his head once.

John turned back to Virgil. “Good to hear.” An arched eyebrow. “Apologies for bringing the terrors back to the room, but they were disrupting the cafe.”

“We were not. Everyone was enjoying it.”

John rolled his eyes. “Napkin volleyball is not appropriate in a public place, Gordon.”

“Well, they didn’t seem to mind. Hell, the cook scored over three chairs in height - off her heels.”

Scott’s ears pricked up at that. “What the hell were you doing.”

“Hey, it was a little fun. Calm down, chairboy. Relax.”

A non-verbal question in John’s direction. “I smoothed it over with the staff. Eos has all the video footage.”

His eldest brother shot off the bed and rounded on Gordon. “Video footage? What the hell?” There was more and not a few profanities amongst the conversation, but Virgil, after long practise, tuned it all out.

He simply stared at the four men who meant the most to him.

Alan’s eyes were sparkling with laughter. Gordon was frowning in outrage. John was rolling his eyes again as much as Scott was cultivating grey hairs as he gesticulated exactly how inappropriate his brothers’ conduct was.

An entire country.

It felt wrong. It scared him.

But it could end up being right. It could be for the better. Please let it be for the better. For everyone.

Sometimes it was just dirt.

Sometimes it was mountains.

He had known his brothers would move whatever was necessary to save him.

But perhaps he had underestimated exactly how much dirt they could move.

And what they were willing to do to move it.

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
